


Repeat

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Series: The Past Does Not Dictate The Future [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Pre-Canon, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: Every day was the same.





	Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Restraining Order

"Do you have all your things packed?"

Nathalie gave her father a dry look. "I never unpack, peré. So yes, i am fully packed. Have a great day. Bye" she turned to leave out the door, only to freeze as a rough hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

He was looming over her, expression eerily calm. "Don't fucking talk back to me like that. Learn some respect."

She held back a retort that _she hadn't done anything wrong what the fuck_ and just nodded with the blankest expression she could.

He rolled his eyes and pushed her out the door. She stumbled slightly but didn't fall. She waved over her shoulder and heard a grumble of "Yeah, get lost" before the door slammed shut behind her.

She shook her head in irritation, nerves spiking at the pain in her shoulder from where he had grabbed her, and checked her phone. She still had plenty of time to catch her bus to school.

In the reflection her phone's screen granted her, she looked at herself for a moment. Not from vanity, but to check her makeup. The bruise wasn't too visible. Good. And her glasses should provide extra coverage, even if they were cracked in the left lens.

Ugh.

She scowled and put her phone back in her pocket. Every smear of makeup felt like it was seeping through her skin and burning her. Paranoia crept over her. What if she hadn't applied it well enough? What if it rubbed off? What if...

A finger tapped her shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

She turned, and smiled weakly at the sight of the familiar face. Emilie Fontaine was one of the oldest students at her school, and had an apprenticeship in some upstanding fashion company. By contrast, Nathalie was only halfway through her second year and was struggling to even find work experience. It wasn't like her grades weren't good, she was getting highest marks in nearly every subject, she was simply too reserved and self conscious for most possible future employers.

She hoped she could grow past it later in life. Maybe it would go away naturally?

"Hi, Em" she smiled at the blonde. "I'm cool, just tired. You catching the bus instead of walking today?"

She only knew Emilie a little, but they got along well.

Emilie's eyes brightened. "Yep! My mother can't drive me in today because she's going for a job interview, and my bike is busted. Can i sit next to you on the bus?"

Nathalie smiled nervously and nodded. "Sure"

The blonde kept happily chatting as they walked, her amicable and likeable words and personality drawing Nathalie out of her miserable stupor.

School passed by in a blur as always. The classes were boring, her classmates were annoying, the homework was too easy or too hard, and lunchtime came and went. She avoided the cafeteria, holing up in the library.

At the end of it all, she felt like she had just wasted her entire life away, despite knowing it was only a few hours.

At one point the makeup on her arms and neck smudged slightly, so she had to hastily reapply in the bathroom. It was badly done and rushed, but with any luck people would just assume she was shit at doing her makeup, rather than think that she had something to hide.

Rubbing makeup into not-yet healed cuts and over tender bruises would never be a pleasant experience, but she grit her teeth and pushed past the pain.

On the bus back, she did as much of her homework as she could. The screaming and laughing of all of the teens around her was an irritant, but after a year of getting used to it, it wasn't half as disruptive and frustrating as it used to be.

Everything about today had sucked, but then again, what was new about that?

On her way back, she bumped into a much taller figure. She apologized frantically and hurried to pick up her paper that she had dropped in the collision, and flinched as whoever it was helped her, passing them all over with a blank expression.

It was a man, probably in his early 20's, with grey eyes behind thick rimmed glasses and light blonde hair. His expression was stern but not angry, just flat.

She followed him with her eyes as he walked away, and for some reason felt like something very important had just happened.

She shrugged it off with ease. No point deliberating on curiosities.

Staring at the front door to her house, she inhaled and exhaled shakily. Time to go in. Maybe if he was drunk he wouldn't notice her.

Then again. Maybe if he was drunk he would just be worse.

She ignored her fear and walked right back into hell.


End file.
